


A mothers love

by FreeShavocadoo



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Character Study, Introspection, M/M, Mild mention of childhood abuse, moderate fluff, shortfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 20:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16940250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeShavocadoo/pseuds/FreeShavocadoo
Summary: When the night is dark and the air drifts quietly through the trees, rustling stray leaves in their wake as snow floats down from the sky, he thinks of his mother.





	A mothers love

When the night is dark and the air drifts quietly through the trees, rustling stray leaves in their wake as snow floats down from the sky, he thinks of his mother. It’s as though he can feel her doting hands wrapping a shabby cloak around his shoulders ever tighter, taking her own meagre furs to put around him, encompassing him in a warmth that he was seemingly never again to be offered in life. Though sometimes he struggles to remember her face, not for lack of trying, he can still hear her beautiful voice carrying through the trees when she would go out to pick her herbs and berries, melodic and melancholic. When he was younger, hearing his mothers voice made him gleeful and full of joy. In retrospect it’s as though he can feel the pain expelling from her lungs, her very being, as though words could not comprehend what her voice could carry with the weight of emotion, too heavy to burden her child with.

It is something often heard of, a boy’s ability to take his mothers care and love for granted. Many outgrow their fathers shadow and as a result are never to embrace their mother again in the pursuit of infamy, riches and glory. A father struggles to love his son once he is of an age to expel him, succeed and exceed him. A mother’s love is infinite, will follow their sons wherever they may go, even the ones who rarely deserve it or warrant it.

Sihtric misses his mother with every passing day.

It is not lost on him, the incredulously continuation of his beliefs in Pagan God’s whilst his mothers cross lies idle in his pocket, the one sewed on the inside of his shirt. He wanted it close to his chest, after all. Thor’s hammer lay over his chest but his mothers cross lay hidden against his heart, even if he did not believe in one true God he did believe in his mother, her love and her protection.

Upon first meeting Uhtred, he is convinced it is of his mothers doing in Heaven that he stands unharmed and taken as a prisoner instead of slain alongside the men who do Kjartan’s bidding. Father, they may call him, but worthy of the title he was not. Sihtric will never forget the face of the man who had killed his mother, with cruel and cold eyes and not a shred of kindness in his heart. There was a time in his youth when Sihtric would often seek the approval and praise of Kjartan, hunting and fighting with as much enthusiasm as he could have on barely a meal a day unless his mother slipped him more. Yet the man’s fists never lay idle and his temper did not run hot as much as it lay like molten lava, never cooling or ceasing in its ability to leave only destruction in his wake.   

One night, when Sihtric was left alone at a table that had been occupied by heavily drinking men for all of the afternoon into the evening, he stares at the cross around Finan’s neck and his curiosity gets the better of him.

_“Do you still believe?” He blurts out, hastened, as though he expects to be reprimanded for his insolence by a man he has only known for a month. “In your God, I mean.”_

_Finan’s gaze follows Sihtric’s own, staring down at his cross with a clouded expression. Sihtric is never really sure what the man is thinking, especially since he is likely to disguise his feelings an intention’s behind a witty retort and obnoxious laugh. But this time, his eyes sadden and lose the crinkle that Sihtric has become accustomed to._

_“My ma used to make me go to church,” he stares up to the open air, with an expression as scattered as the stars in the sky, “never liked it much.”_

_He pauses and clasps the necklace, as though it gifts him the ability to find words. “I’m not sure what I believe God to be, no. I believe that he’s there, I just don’t know what I really think o’ him?”_

_Sihtric tilts his head, watching Finan’s movements closely, as he has always done with everyone._

_“You see the things I’ve seen and done, and get forced to do the things I’ve done, and you question why anyone would let it happen to you.” Finan’s voice is lower than usual, as though he expects his God to hear him conspiring and strike him where he stands. For all of the differences in the beliefs, both the Pagan God’s and the Christian God seem to be equally unforgiving and cruel._

_“I wonder why your God decided to forsake my mother.” Sihtric stares down at his mother’s cross, somehow in his hand, as though he had conjured it there by willpower and need alone._

_It is Finan’s silence that brings him back to reality, cursing himself for saying something so careless and revealing. “I did not mean-,”_

_“Sihtric, I think we’re all forsaken by God.” Finan leans forward and pats his shoulder, not the usual slap that would almost level him onto the floor but a gentle hand that makes him feel safe. “It’s what we decide to do with the time given to us that matters.”_

_“I will never get to see her again.” Sihtric cares little now about revealing himself, he has already said  more than he’d intended to and the ale in his stomach makes his visions blurred and his usually sealed mouth slip open. “She is in heaven.”_

_“Well how d’you know?” Finan replies, with his brown eyes burning a hole into Sihtric’s head._

_“What do you mean?” Sihtric stares back once more, eyebrows furrowed and vision blurring further._

_“You can’t prove you’ll never see her again. Maybe we’re all wrong about the afterlife. Perhaps we’ll all end up in the same place, that’d be a right laugh, wouldn’t it?” Finan chuckles, a sound that makes Sihtric’s gut twist in a way that doesn’t make him want to bolt to the nearest escape route._

_“Point being,” Finan continues, putting his hand over Sihtric’s and giving it a small squeeze, “your ma will be with you wherever you go, even if she ain’t there with you physically. You can carry people around with you even if they aren’t there.”_

_“Yes.” Sihtric stares down at the cross, clasped in his hand which is encompassed entirely by Finan’s larger hand grasping his own. “Yes, we can.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“What are _you_ thinking about?”  Finan’s voice is teasing, his beard tickling Sihtric’s neck as he leans over his shoulder and grins at him. Sihtric turns his head slightly to nudge Finan’s nose with his own, smiling when Finan’s eyes crinkle immediately.

“Do you remember the first time I properly spoke with you?” Sihtric turns to face him fully, hands grasping the fur on Finan’s shoulders as he stares into the eyes that offered him an unlikely reprieve from a life that had been so merciless.

“How could I forget?” Finan moves one of his hands over Sihtric’s, staring him dead in the eye. “I meant every word I said.”

“You always do.” Sihtric smiles softly, feeling the warmth coiling up his chest as a reaction to being so close to Finan, feeling protected and secure, even if only for a moment. “I do not deserve you.”

“No, young Sihtric,” Finan grasps his chin and gives him a kiss that knocks the wind from his lungs, always able to romance him without a single word but an effective action, “it is _I_ who is the lucky one.”

Sihtric can feel the weight of Thor’s hammer and his mother’s cross around his neck, one over his shirt and one under.

He will carry her with him until the end of time.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of this idea, ran with it, and this was the result. It was less a traditional pairing fic and more of a look into Sihtric and his mothers relationship, yet I just cannot separate him from Finan.  
> ALL feedback ALWAYS appreciated! Let me know your thoughts :)


End file.
